Morning

I woke up one morning, disfigured by oversleep from catching up on the 4 hours of sleep I got the night before, silently confessing to myself from what came from the crypt.

I open up my door and find the entire house upside down. Chairs upside-down, keyboard upside-down, jacket cuffs taped together, and dining room chairs flipped.

I saw a note on the floor of my room, and I remembered.

“Thanks for the April Fools, mom.”

That morning she called from work asking how everything was, like normal, and of course laughing sinisterly at her set stage. Momentarily I get a phone call from ‘G, asking if everything was alright. “Uh, last time I checked everything is fine?”

Several hours later my mom walks in and says “so did GG call you?”
“Yeah. What was that about?”
“April Fools!”

Despite all the trauma and hard work Mom gets stuck with, she still has the joyous spirit that we could never have. I suppose it’s what inspires me to keep my chin up in times of chaos. Her strength marvels even the most tallest, most muscular of people, or even the most prestigious of scholars. She is very human – a very inspiring human. Perhaps everyone could learn a bit from her, knowing that no one could have it worse than she had.

Plentiful of stories like a chronology of short stories she has told, on 15 minute dinners come 3 hours. Atwood couldn’t score a net on the side of Pickering in comparison. Happy, sad, confused or bewitching, there’s no limit to the stories of history – love, hatred, victim or victimization, it could go on. An unrequited scholar is what I’d call her, always reading what she can, always asking questions, always wondering what happened to the world and what would. No amount of literature schooling could give such elaborate thinking.

Yet even as a scholar, she has an inherit ability to be a mother, even before her womb was occupied. Altruistic and nurturing as any human could possibly be, it’s amazing how strong she continues to stand. I wonder what would have happened if she had more schooling under her belt – she would probably win a few Nobels.

Coming from a slum and making it to a humble but prosperous country is no laughing matter. Not everyone could do it, and while there are always lucky turns in stories, she at the very least is thankful for where she is. I certainly am.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll have measurable strength and power like hers when I get older, too.